


won't you hold me

by peachsneakers



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Analoceit - Freeform, Cuddling, Dermatillomania, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Nail Biting, Skin picking, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24819394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachsneakers/pseuds/peachsneakers
Summary: Janus needs help with a little problem.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 15
Kudos: 216





	won't you hold me

**Author's Note:**

> for prompt: "Prompt: Janus who's a skin picker but specifically on his face, so he tries to only pick at the side with his scales so that it's less noticeable (also maybe with some analoceit thrown in there?)"

Janus squints at the scale-speckled side of his face in the mirror, wincing when he spots the red flakiness of irritation. It's not noticeable, not unless you really know what you're looking for, but to Janus, it might as well flash like a neon sign outside a dive bar.

A knock sounds on the bathroom door and Janus startles, nearly smashing his hand into the faucet.

"Are you almost done?" Virgil's voice floats through the wood.

"Yes," Janus grits out. He scrounges through the bathroom cabinets with all six arms, hands shaking, until he pulls out a lotion formulated for dry skin. It burns when he smooths it over his abraded scales, but he just clenches his eyes shut and breathes through the pain.

When he opens the door, Virgil rushes past him, his hair streaked with pancake syrup, and Janus has to choke back a laugh.

"What happened?" He asks.

"Remus," Virgil grumbles, turning the shower on as he starts to shuck off his hoodie. "He decided to pour syrup in my hair because I didn't wanna pass the bacon."

"Well, you know how he likes his bacon," Janus murmurs, his lips twitching into a smile. Virgil rolls his eyes, but he looks amused, too.

"Logan said he was gonna go work on the deadlines for the new video, by the way," Virgil adds. "If you wanna join him."

"Thank you, storm cloud," Janus says, closing the bathroom door behind him with a gentle click. The shower turns on with a sputter.

Logan's in his room, poring over Thomas's planner, but he looks up when Janus enters, a soft smile creasing his face.

"Janus!" He exclaims. "You were gone for a while. Everything all right?"

"Fine," Janus lies. "Merely a slight problem with my scales." _Why did you say that?_ He berates himself as concern fills Logan's face and he peers at the scaly side of Janus's face.

"Are you all right?" Logan asks, lifting a hand as if he wants to touch Janus's face before letting it droop back into his lap.

"I just needed some lotion, that's all," Janus says dismissively.

"Are you sure?" Logan persists. Janus's shoulders hunch, his skin hot and prickly all over.

"I'm _fine_ ," he snaps, shame curdling in his stomach the instant the words fly out. Logan goes very still.

"What's wrong?" Logan asks. "You can tell me to stop prying, and I will, but if you're hurting, I- I want to know why. I want to help you."

"It's stupid," Janus mumbles. His face feels like it's on fire, and he isn't sure if that's from the humiliation or the raw patches of skin. His face itches for the touch of his fingers, scraping and pulling and picking, perhaps even removing a scale if he's determined enough (it's happened before, much to his horrified disbelief, but the scale grew back before he had to face anyone else).

"It isn't," Logan softly contradicts. "Anything that's hurting you is, by definition, not stupid."

"I- I- Maybe I should wait for Virgil," Janus stammers, suddenly struck by the realization that if he manages to blurt this out loud once, he almost certainly won't be able to manage a second time. The door creaks open on his last words and Virgil slouches in, his hair wet and syrup-free.

"Wait for me why?" Virgil asks, taking a seat in his favorite purple beanbag chair. Janus swallows, the pressure in his chest increasing. His hands are trembling, even as he clasps them together.

"Logan is concerned about me," Janus says, willing his voice to remain steady. He thinks about the possibility of sinking down to his room and avoiding this entirely, then reluctantly discards it. His boyfriends will just follow him, and then they'll be even _more_ concerned.

"What's up?" Virgil asks. His eyes are warm with concern, and it makes Janus's throat tighten.

"I pick at my face, especially my scales-" The words spill out in a torrent, like releasing some noxious fluids from a wound. He closes his eyes, unwilling to see the judgment that must dart across their faces, the glances shared between them that whisper how gross he is, how disgusting it is that he would pick at his skin, that he-

"I bite my nails," Virgil offers. Surprised, Janus opens his eyes, and Virgil nervously thrusts a hand in front of him, long enough for him to see the ragged edges to Virgil's fingernails, topped with chipped black polish. "Painting them helps sometimes," Virgil explains. "I uh, I know it's not the same, but-"

"They have more in common than you think," Logan says. "They're both examples of body focused repetitive behaviors."

"Huh?" Virgil asks. 

"They're a group of related disorders," Logan explains. "They include skin picking, nail biting, hair pulling, and other behaviors. Often sufferers will inflict physical damage. It is difficult to stop." He turns to Janus and takes one gloved hand gently between his own.

"And it doesn't make you stupid or gross or anything else," Logan says firmly. "Or you, Virgil. They can be worked on. There are techniques to help. We'll just have to find them."

"Promise?" Janus asks weakly. Logan nods, Virgil backing him up.

"It's okay, Jan," Virgil says. He gets up from his beanbag, settling on the bed next to Janus and bumping his shoulder. "We'll help. Hey- sometimes I end up biting my nails and I'm not really aware I'm doing it until after. Are you like that with your skin picking?"

"Sometimes," Janus admits, his cheeks flushed with shame. Logan rubs his knuckles and his head goes fuzzy for a second.

"Would it help to have some kind of secret signal among the three of us? To be like hey, you're doing it?" Virgil asks. 

"I- well, I don't think it would hurt," Janus says. "So I'm _totally_ averse to trying it." Virgil smiles.

"C'mere, Lo," Virgil says, falling back on the bed. "I think Janus needs a cuddle session."

"You aren't wrong," Janus murmurs. After a brief scuffle, they arrange themselves sprawled out on Logan's bed, surrounded by pillows and covered in blankets, including Janus's weighted blanket. 

"Is your face all right, by the way?" Logan asks, idly playing with Janus's hair.

"I think so," Janus says, hesitant. "I'm not bleeding or anything."

"I'll take a closer look later, if that's all right with you," Logan offers. Janus nods, drowsiness creeping up on him. 

"Take a nap," Virgil says, pressing a kiss to his temple. "We'll watch over you. Wake you up if Thomas needs you. It'll be okay."

Janus yawns hugely.

"Love you both," he says. "You- thank you."

"No problem, danger noodle," Virgil says, ruffling his hair. "We'll figure it out."

Janus falls asleep, lulled by Logan's fingers massaging his scalp and the comforting weight of his blanket. When he wakes, they'll take over the bathroom, let Logan inspect the raw patches on his cheek and pull out the first aid kit. Virgil will hold his hand and crack terrible puns he's learned from Patton. But none of that matters right now.

Instead, Janus dreams of comfort and soft words in the night and the warmth of his boyfriends' kisses.


End file.
